When I was younger, I played the bagpipes a bit. Many years ago, I was asked by a funeral director to play at a graveside service for a homeless man. He had no family or friends, so the service was to be at a pauper's cemetery in deep East Texas.
As I was not familiar with the backwoods, I got lost and, being a typical male, I didn't stop to ask for directions. I finally arrived an hour late and saw the funeral guy had evidently gone and the hearse was nowhere in sight. There was only the digging crew left and they were eating lunch.
I felt badly and apologized to the men for being late. I went to the side of the grave, looked down and saw that the vault lid was already in place. I didn't know what else to do, so I started to play.
The workers put down their lunches and began to gather around. I played out my heart and soul for this man with no family and friends. I played as if I were playing for the Queen of England.
And as I played "Amazing Grace", the workers began to weep. They wept, I wept, we all wept together. When I finished, I packed up my bagpipes and started for my automobile. Though my head hung low, my heart was full. As I opened the door to my car, I heard one of the workers say, "I never seen nothin' like that before and I've been putting in septic tanks for twenty years!".